Author's note: Welcome! As mentioned in the summary, this is a sequel to my original story, The Only Slytherin. If you haven't read it, then please check it out (link below). If you have read it, then let me explain that this story is going to be told from both Callie and Snape's POVs. It will switch up between chapters, and sometimes within chapters. The first will be from Snape's perspective, covering a few significant events that occurred directly after the Battle of Hogwarts. I hope you enjoy :)
(Disclaimer: Callie Warbeck is my original character. I'll point out other OCs as they show up, but other than that, I own nothing.)
s/14049215/1/The-Only-Slytherin
1. Waking Up
The first thing he's aware of is bright light, and he wonders for a moment if he's somehow reached Heaven. But two things occur to him that refute this idea. First, the dead are incapable of experiencing physical pain. Second, if this were Heaven then she would be here. Yet, she wasn't.
He can barely open his eyes, and when he does, his vision is terribly blurred. All he can make out are shadows scurrying to and fro against the backdrop of brightness. Many voices intermingle, producing a dull buzzing sound. His head is throbbing, there's an ache in his neck, and his whole God damn body feels as though its been thrown from a cliff.
What the fuck happened? he wonders.
"Severus?" a vaguely familiar voice whispers at his side. A shadowy figure comes into view, right in front of his heavy-lidded eyes. "Severus?" the soft voice calls again.
He wants to respond but all he can do is groan weakly.
"It's all right. Don't try to speak." He can feel someone resting their hand on his, and he struggles to try and bring the figure into focus. "It's Minerva," they inform him. "You're going to be okay. You're in the hospital wing at Hogwarts." That explains the light - daylight coming in from the many large windows.
Again, he groans. Somewhere in the back of his mind is a memory, something indistinguishable at first, but he latches onto it and strains to bring it to the forefront of his mind. Flashes of light in the dark, red and green. The crumbling of stone, the shattering of glass. Flames - everywhere is flames. This is the hell he'd have expected if he really were dead.
Suddenly one name flashes in his mind. Potter. He has to find Potter.
He's in the castle, he thinks. And he wants to get up and go after the boy, but he can't move, can't speak, can barely open his eyes. What's happened to me?
"Severus?" the woman calls out again. Very gently, she takes him by the chin and positions him to look at her. "Can you hear me?" she asks. Squeezing his hand, she orders, "Wiggle your fingers if you can hear me."
It takes every bit of strength he has, but he manages it. The woman lets out a choked sob and claps her hand to her mouth. "You're going to be okay," she repeats. "It's all going to be okay."
He has to find the boy; that's all that matters at the moment. Though his throat is raw, he fights through the pain and stutters, "P- Po- Potter..." Even to himself, it's barely audible.
"What?" the woman asks, leaning her ear close to his mouth.
"Po- Potter..." He is physically incapable of speaking any louder.
"Potter," she says. "He's all right. He's alive."
Yes, but for how long? He has to get to the boy and tell him. Tell him that he has to die.
She brushes back his hair, and when she speaks again, it sounds as though she might be weeping. "Lord Voldemort is gone, Severus."
Though he can hardly move, he winces at the name.
"Harry's done it. He's defeated him."
With an immense effort, he opens his eyes just a bit wider and focuses his vision on the woman before him. A tear slides down her cheek as she offers him a kind smile. "It's over," she says. "We've won."
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Darkness had fallen by the time he was finally able to remain conscious long enough to have it all explained. There were only two things he really cared to know, however.
Potter was alive. The Dark Lord was dead.
He could now remember standing in the Shrieking Shack with his false master, discussing the Elder Wand, and why it refused to obey its apparent owner.
"The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."
And the next thing he'd known, the protective orb that held Nagini had floated over him, and he was trapped with the snake, which sunk its teeth into his neck...
Then Potter was there, and all Severus could think was, You have to tell him... show him if you have to. With what he had thought would be his dying breaths, he'd given up every last one of his secrets, praying the boy would know what do with the shimmering wisps of memory.
And the last thing he could remember was telling the boy to look at him. Because he had known he was going to die, and he'd wanted to see, one last time, those eyes. Lily's eyes.
All things considered, it would've been a rather peaceful death.
Instead he'd been dragged back to life, and McGonagall was a blubbering mess, saying that she wished she had known, begging his forgiveness for having gone at him the previous night. And Shacklebolt, the interim Minister for Magic, informed him that he could expect a full pardon for any and all crimes committed on Dumbledore's orders. The man had viewed the memories that Severus had given Potter, and the Wizengamot would be having a look at them as well.
Severus lay in his hospital bed, a sulky expression on his face as he took all that in. Christ, everybody knew now. All of wizarding Britain was going to know the most personal details of his life. His unceasing love for his childhood friend, which had remained the one constant in his life throughout everything.
"After all this time?" Dumbledore had asked a year before.
"Always."
Presently, he growled, "Close that damn curtain, Minerva. I feel as though I'm on display." Every other patient and visitor in the place had been throwing curious glances at him for the last hour. It was infuriating. "Saffron!" he called out, and his personal house-elf appeared at his side. "Bring me a change of clothes and have a bath ready when I return to my quarters."
As the creature disappeared, Madam Pomfrey said, "You're not going anywhere tonight, Severus. Not after what you've just been through."
"I'm fine," he insisted, although a sort of throbbing ache remained throughout his whole body, and he did feel rather weak. But he could recover in his own bed, in private.
"Yes, I'm sure you are," the matron conceded. "But I'm not going to take any chances with somebody who went nearly two hours without a heartbeat."
He looked up at her with a furrowed brow and asked, "What are you on about, 'Without a heartbeat'?"
"You were in Cardiostasis for an hour and a half. I don't think you realize how close to death you really were."
"Why did you put me in Cardiostasis?" he asked.
"I didn't. Callie Warbeck did, in an attempt to slow the bleeding."
It was the first time he'd given the girl any thought since waking up, and he was utterly baffled as to how she of all people had become involved in this. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Warbeck in two weeks, not since she'd stunned him and fled the castle. "She came back?" he asked McGonagall.
The woman explained, "She never left, actually. The D.A. has been hiding out in the Room of Requirement the last couple of weeks. There's a tunnel connecting the room to the Hog's Head Inn. Callie met with Aberforth after she fled, and he sent her through it. The girl was right under our noses the whole time." With a smirk, she concluded, "Rather crafty, she is."
He looked back at Pomfrey and asked, "And you let her stop my heart? Why didn't you do it yourself?"
"I didn't let her do anything, I wasn't even there," Pomfrey said.
"What do you mean?"
"Severus," McGonagall cut in, "it was Miss Warbeck who found you in the Shrieking Shack. Voldemort-" he flinched when she spoke his name "-called a ceasefire after he attacked you, and when the girl was told what happened she went off to see for herself."
"Hmph. So she could dance before my corpse," he said sardonically.
"No. So she could bring your body back and set you amongst the others. But then she realized you were still alive and took care of you. Tried to stop the bleeding, gave you blood-replenishing potion, then put you under the charm when the battle resumed."
He pondered that, and asked, "Did she know what I'd shown Potter? Had he told her?"
Hesitantly, the woman said, "Well... no."
"But she came to get me. She thought I was dead, and she wanted to bring me to the castle?" Considering the fact that she'd been under the assumption he belonged to the Dark Lord, why would she give a damn where his dead body lay?
McGonagall looked as though she had something on her mind that she didn't want to share, but he couldn't imagine what that might be. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked.
With a sigh, she replied, "Warbeck knew about you, Severus. She knew before any of us did."
He simply stared at her a moment, before he asked, "What did she know?"
"Your allegiance to Dumbledore," McGonagall said. "She's known for a while."
Furrowing his brow, he said, "She couldn't have. Nobody knew. How would she have found out?" Again, his colleague was hesitant. "Minerva?" he prodded.
Holding her head in her hand, she mused, "Crafty, she is, remember? Rather bold, as well. Would've done well in my house, I imagine."
"What are you blathering about?" he asked with an irritated look on his face.
Another sigh before she said, "You told her. She knew because you told her, Severus."
He merely blinked at the woman in confusion. "Are you mad? I hadn't told a soul. The Dark Lord would've ended me if he'd had any idea that I..." He trailed off, his head spinning as he wondered if the woman had taken a Confundus Charm during the battle.
But she explained, "She forced it out of you - with Veritaserum. It happened in December-"
"I think I would remember spilling my greatest secret and risking my whole God damn life, Minerva," he cut in angrily.
"No, you wouldn't. She made sure of that when she erased your memory."
He froze. Nothing she was saying made any lick of sense, but then... if what she'd just told him were true...
"She didn't, she..." he stammered, shaking his head to himself.
McGonagall explained, "She came to you one night and told you that the D.A. was plotting an attack. It was a ruse to get you into the Room of Requirement. Once inside, she stunned you, bound you, and gave you the potion. You told her the truth about yourself, and how Albus died, and when it was over she altered your memory and sent you on your way."
His eyes were locked on the woman, yet he was unseeing. He couldn't respond, couldn't even think; he was in a state of shock like he had never experienced before. Vertiaserum... Forced it out of you... A ruse to get you into the Room of Requirement... Stunned... Bound...
And he had absolutely no recollection of any of it.
"Warbeck knew about you, Severus," McGonagall's words echoed in his mind. "She knew before any of us did. December..."
He didn't move a muscle as he asked, "Where is she?"
The woman could sense that he was about to explode, and with a worried expression she began, "Severus..."
"Where is she?" he repeated in a dangerous tone.
"I don't know," McGonagall replied. "Somewhere in the castle, I'm assuming. But I'm not going to bring her here so you can tear her head off. You're alive because of Callie Warbeck, Severus. What difference does it make what she knew or how she found out?"
Suddenly he shouted out, "Kingsley!" His colleague tried to reason with him until the Minister showed up, and then he declared, "I want you to find Calista Warbeck and bring her into custody."
The man cocked a brow at him and said, "I beg your pardon?"
"I want to press charges against her," Severus growled. "I've just now been informed that the girl has committed a number of offences against me. Minerva can tell you all about it."
She looked over at Kingsley and said, "He knows about the interrogation."
Severus scoffed. "'Interrogation?' Is that what you call it? For Christ's sake, she's not an auror. The use of a truth potion by an unauthorized individual is a crime, is it not?"
"Yes," the Minister conceded, "but considering the circumstances-"
"She altered my memory, as well," Severus went on, his normally pale face growing red with anger. "I believe that falls under the category of psychological assault! She bound me and trapped me alone with her in the Room of Requirement - false imprisonment. That's three!"
"Severus, enough," McGonagall urged.
But he ignored her, his eyes still on Kingsley. "What are you waiting for?" he asked. "Arrest her!"
"Absolutely not," the Minister replied in a resolute tone. "Calista Warbeck risked her life last night defending this castle. I'm not about to bring her in on such trumped-up charges."
"Damn it, Kingsley!" Severus barked.
Madam Pomfrey stepped in and demanded, "All right now, stop! You need to relax, Professor. Your blood pressure is already elevated from the blood-replenisher. You could open a ruddy vein if you don't calm yourself."
"As if I give a damn," he shot back. The Minister sauntered off while the matron urged him to lie back. When he finally complied, she offered him a sedative potion, but he refused.
"You're being completely unreasonable," McGonagall remarked with a look of aggravation. "You know that, right?"
"I see nothing unreasonable about wanting to have a criminal prosecuted for their actions," he growled.
"Merlin's beard, Severus, a criminal? That's what you call the girl who saved your life?"
"The very life that she's been holding in her hands the last five months!" he snapped. "The girl is weak, Minerva! The Carrows went at her with the Torture Curse and she gave up the D.A. They could've gotten this information out of her if they'd gone after her again, and the Dark Lord would've killed me! Am I supposed to be grateful that she jumped in at the last second, when all this time she'd put me at an even greater risk than I was already in?"
She couldn't argue that, or else she didn't care to bother trying. With a sigh she stood up and said, "I have been awake for nearly forty hours. I'm exhausted, and I need to stop. We'll discuss this in the morning."
"There's nothing more to discuss," he replied. "I'm done with this."
"Very well, then," she said, shutting the bedcurtain and leaving him alone.
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The visitors had cleared out, and the room was quiet as he lie awake a few hours later, going over everything in his head. That God damn girl - how he'd love to wrap his hands around her neck and throttle her. He had actually felt sorry for the conniving little bitch, between the Carrows damn near Cruciating the life out of her, and then her housemates cutting her up, violating her...
It had been all he could do not to strike Vincent Crabbe dead for having laid his hands on her. And tonight, when he'd found out the little bastard hadn't made it out of the battle, for just one moment Severus had been smiling inside.
But never mind that. His thoughts returned to Warbeck, and how pathetic she'd appeared the last several months. She is weak, he'd thought as he watched her bow down to the Carrows, abandon her so-called comrades and wander about the castle as though she were dead inside. He really had pitied her, though at the same time it had been maddening to see the fire die out in her eyes.
But that had all been an act; apparently the girl was nearly as two-faced as he was. And the audacity she'd had to do what she had done. Attacking him, drugging him, inserting herself into a situation that was no business of hers. She never could stand being on the outside of things. Entitled, self-important little-
"Professor Snape?" a voice called out from behind the curtain.
He knew it was Potter, and he shut his eyes, debating whether to pretend to be asleep. How could he look at the boy after what he had shared with him? He hadn't planned on ever having to face Harry Potter again. After all, Dumbledore had led him to believe that the boy was going to die. Instead they had both made it out of the war alive, and everything was out in the open - that he'd been pining for the infuriating child's own mother nearly all his life, despite the fact that he had driven her away, that she had come to realize he was scum. Never had he felt so low, so humiliated.
Again, the boy called out, "Professor?"
With a sigh, Severus replied, "Yes?"
"May I come in, sir?"
"As you wish."
Potter came forth and drew the curtain closed around them. Severus kept his eyes averted as the boy awkwardly stood at his bedside, seemingly unsure of what to say. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke. "I thought you were dead. I wouldn't have left you there if..." He trailed off, paused, and then continued, "Well... maybe I would've, I don't know. But..."
When he didn't go on, Severus prodded, "But?"
After a beat, the boy said in a quiet voice, "Thank you."
The headmaster scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"I mean it," Potter went on. "All this time you've been protecting me. For my mum."
"I don't want to talk about it," Severus said. "You know of my loyalties and my motives. Nothing else needs to be said."
"Right. Except that I can't keep on hating you now that I know."
"Well don't expect me to have a similar change of heart. I've never liked you, Potter, I still don't."
"I didn't say I like you," the boy replied, "only that I don't hate you."
"What a touching sentiment," the man said sarcastically.
"Hmph," Potter smirked. The boy was quiet for a moment, before he said. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way my father treated you back then. I'm sorry for what happened between you and my mum."
"I told you I don't care to speak about that."
"Just let me say this, please. You don't ever have to see me again if you don't want but I have to get this out."
"I get the picture," Severus cut in. "You're grateful, you're sorry... for God's sake, Potter, if you start crying I'm going to Cruciate you."
"Bloody hell, do you always have to be so unpleasant? I'm trying to settle things between us."
"They're settled. Satisfied?" He finally met eyes with the boy, who gave him an exasperated look and turned to leave. "Wait," Severus called out, halting him. He hesitated, then whispered, "I'm sorry, too."
"For which part?" Potter asked.
Again he hesitated, but said, "For all of it." He paused, and then in a barely audible voice, "Your parents were murdered because of me."
The boy simply stood in silence for a moment, then pulled up a chair and sat. "What happened to not wanting to talk about it?" he asked. "We don't have do to this. I'm not going to spend my whole life blaming you for what happened. You've done that to yourself already, haven't you?"
He kept quiet, studying the boy's features that were so much like his father's - except, of course, for those almond-shaped green eyes, the only physical trait he had inherited from Lily. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "You weren't supposed to live."
"Sorry to disappoint," the boy said.
"According to Dumbledore," Severus elaborated, running a hand over his face tiredly. "All those years of trying to protect you, and he tells me that you have to die in order for the Dark Lord to be defeated." He shook his head to himself before continuing, "That night in the Forest of Dean, when I left you the sword, I was this close to grabbing you and telling you everything, telling you to run. To get as far from Britain as you could and never return."
"Good thing you didn't. I wouldn't have done that, but I might've killed you if you'd shown yourself." A moment of silence passed, before the boy asked, "What are you going to do now? Are you staying at Hogwarts? I know you only came here for Dumbledore, and now that the war is over..."
"I'd never thought that far ahead," he replied. "My entire adult life has revolved around the Dark Lord - serving him, waiting for his return, and then working against him. Now that he's gone..." Bloody hell, it didn't seem real. Saying it aloud felt like speaking a lie, as though his power were so great that it could never truly be vanquished.
"Well," Potter said, "whatever you decide... I hope everything turns out all right for you." He stood up, hesitated, then extended his hand.
Once more Severus looked up into those green eyes, and his breath caught in his throat as he wondered if Lily somehow knew that her son had survived, that giving her life for the boy all those years ago hadn't been in vain. Good Christ, to see her one more time, to watch her throw her arms around her child and embrace him, to have the mother and son reunited...
He had to look away from the boy, but he accepted his handshake. And when Potter bid him goodnight, he told himself that all of it had been for the best, that he'd been right to keep him at a distance the last seven years. To treat him with contempt and outright cruelty. He had never allowed himself to care about the child of the woman he loved. If he had, it would've been impossible to send the boy off to the Dark Lord to be slaughtered.
And that little piece of the man - the thing - that had existed within Potter needed to be destroyed, for the good of the whole wizarding world.
You could've told me, Albus, that the boy would survive the Killing Curse once again, he thought. A very significant part of him truly hated the former headmaster.
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"In the Name of Love: The Truth About Severus Snape"
"'He's Loved My Mum for All His Life': Potter Speaks of You Know Who's Second-in-Command"
"Supposed Death Eater Severus Snape's Love Affair with Lily Potter"
"Lily Potter's Hidden Secret - the Other Man"
"Shocking Update! Ex-Death Eater May Have Fathered Boy Who Lived"
He tore through the latest of Rita Skeeter's trashy front-page articles, his scowling expression a mix of revulsion and anger. "God damn that disgusting, contemptible-" He was too enraged to go on, hurling the bits of ripped-up paper to the floor and igniting them. Unfortunately, it wasn't only Skeeter who'd been exploiting his personal business in the media. After the Dark Lord's defeat, the second hottest topic in wizarding Britain was Severus Snape's unrequited - and sometimes not so unrequited - love for Lily Potter.
As if it hadn't been humiliating enough having his private life displayed to the entire world, the facts of the matter had been twisted and blown into outrageous rumors that hadn't a shred of basis in reality. Some had claimed that he and Lily had had a romantic relationship while at Hogwarts. Others reported that they'd carried on a torrid love affair, even after she had married Potter. Now, apparently, there were theories that Severus was Harry's real father, and that was why he'd been protecting the boy all these years.
He was absolutely livid at how his relationship with his childhood friend - the one thing he held sacred above all else - had been completely exploited, reduced to a cheap bit of gossip passed around the pubs and between chatty housewives. Bloody hell, he should never have shared this with Potter. All the boy had needed to know was that he had to let the Dark Lord attempt the Killing Curse on him again. And perhaps that Severus had still been loyal to the Light Side. But he could've left his history with Lily out of it entirely. If he had, then maybe he'd be able to show his face around the rest of the castle, rather than isolating himself in his living quarters for the last six weeks.
Of course, he was free to return to Spinner's End, but he hated that God-forsaken place, the shabby brick house that he'd inherited from his father. With everything else going on, he felt as though he might slice his neck open himself if he had to set foot in his childhood home again.
Since his discharge from the hospital wing, he had only interacted with three beings. His elf, Saffron, brought him his meals and his mail. Phineas Nigellus Black appeared in his portrait every once in a while to report the goings-on around the castle. And on a handful of occasions, he'd allowed McGonagall to check in on him.
"How are you?" she asked on one such occasion in June.
"Alive," he replied tersely. "Take that however you wish."
Taking in his ever-sullen demeanor, she then asked, "Have you spoken to Madam Rochester?"
"No. Nor am I planning to do so. We've been over this."
Orpheline Rochester was a spiritual advisor - the closest thing to what muggles would refer to as a therapist. She was employed by Hogwarts and ordinarily provided counseling to students with psychological concerns. But lately she'd been offering her services to everyone who had participated in the battle, even holding group "reflection sessions" with the survivors. McGonagall had suggested that Severus meet with the woman, but it was all rubbish, as far as he was concerned.
By now, the headmistress knew better than to argue with him, so she didn't push it. Instead she asked, "And physically? How have your heart rate and rhythm been?"
As he moved behind his desk to retrieve something from inside, he said, "Rhythm's been within normal limits for weeks. There doesn't appear to be any issue there. And the rate hasn't changed since I saw you last. Still hovering in the one-tens." Slightly elevated; she was more concerned about this than he was.
She watched with a look of disapproval as he pulled out a gold cigarette case and lit one up. "That doesn't help, Severus."
Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he replied, "No, it doesn't. But haven't we all got our vices?"
She looked away in exasperation, but again, she let it go. "Will you be staying at the castle over summer?"
"I will. I've been considering putting my family home up for sale. Ten months out of the year it sits abandoned, neglected." He took a puff before concluding, "No sense holding onto the old hovel."
"Then it's for certain? You're going to remain on staff?"
He shrugged one shoulder in a way that seemed to say, I suppose so.
"I'm happy about that, Severus. It would've pained me to see you go." He didn't respond to that, and after a moment she took a step towards him. "I've secured a new hire for the Muggle Studies post. Frederick Cross, I don't know if you remember him - graduated in '87, he was one of Pomona's students."
"Hm. I remember that he was a bit of a halfwit."
Rolling her eyes, the woman muttered to herself, "Merlin's beard. He's perfectly qualified to teach the subject-"
"He'd better be, he's muggle-born."
"I've yet to fill the position of potions master," she said. "Everyone I've reached out to is uninterested, or else they're not entirely comfortable taking on a job here so soon after... everything."
"You're not going to ask me to give up Defense for Potions, are you? Or perhaps to juggle both positions? Seeing as how I've done so well at playing two different roles at once," he said sardonically.
Ignoring that comment, she went on, "I do have one potential candidate. Very knowledgeable on the subject and exceptionally talented at potion-making. Not particularly experienced in teaching, but she did learn from two of the best - yourself and Horace."
"Who is it?" he asked.
The woman hesitated, then ignored his question completely. "I've spoken to Professor Slughorn," she said. "He believes the girl would make an excellent potions mistress. And perhaps he'd know better than anyone, having instructed her in N.E.W.T.-level courses."
Severus paused, not having missed that minor detail. McGonagall had said that this girl had learned from both he and Slughorn. But she'd taken N.E.W.T. classes with the latter? That meant that she'd have had to have studied under himself before the older man. Which narrowed it down to somebody from either the previous year's graduating class, or this year's.
Exceptionally talented at potion-making, approved by Slughorn...
"No," he said, shaking his head. "Don't you dare say what I think you're going to say, Minerva."
With a sigh, the headmistress replied, "Severus, she's been at the top of her class in Potions every year. Horace said he's rarely seen a student with such an innate understanding of the subject. She received an O on her O.W.L., and I expect she'll score the same on her N.E.W.T. next month."
"She's seventeen," he argued.
"She'll be eighteen at the start of the term - only three years younger than you were when you started teaching."
"Don't you dare compare that arrogant little swine to me," he said warningly. "I taught her Potions for five years. She was good, but not 'exceptional.'"
"I've been over her academic records as well as her classmates'. As I said, she has consistently been one of the top three highest-ranking Potions students in her year. She and Hermione Granger and Theodore Nott. The three of them have bounced around, but Miss Warbeck was number one for four out of seven years."
"But it isn't simply brewing," he tried, "it's teaching. You would entrust her with bringing up the next generation of potioneers, some of whom already possess almost the same level of education as she has?"
"Yes, I would. I don't believe that Callie Warbeck would give up on any student until they were as competent at Potions as she is. And you're downplaying her abilities, Severus. She isn't merely 'good,' and you know that. Bloody hell, you gave her the marks that put her at the top, and I know you're not exactly lenient with grades."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking there was no way in hell he was going to continue to reside under the same roof as that abhorrent, insufferable twit. "How could you even consider doing this to me?" he growled. "You know how I feel about that... girl."
"And I think it's rubbish. You owe her your life, Severus-"
"Enough with that!" he cut in.
"It's true! And I don't think you have the slightest comprehension of how much that girl cares for you. She didn't merely perform the charm and give you a potion and have done with it. She stayed at your side in the hospital wing and held your hand-"
"I don't want to hear it!"
"For God's sake, Severus!"
"Minerva!" he shouted, slamming his hand down on the desk. "I'm not playing around! I am not going to be forced to live and work under the same roof as that girl! If you bring her on then I'll be turning in my resignation! Is that clear?!"
The woman stared at him with her jaw set, her eyes aflame with anger. "So you're forcing me to choose between the two of you, is that it?"
No, that wasn't it. It shouldn't have been a choice for her; she'd known him for twenty-seven years, worked with him for nearly two decades. In their professional relationship they'd always been friendly and respectful towards one another. They had liked each other. And after everything he'd done for the Light Side - risking his life every God damn day for the last three years?
Yet she'd just put him on the same level as Callie fucking Warbeck? Was he truly that invaluable in her eyes?
With a haughty look, she went on, "You're behaving like a child, Severus. You simply can't get past the fact that she pulled one over on you, that she fooled you. That is what you've chosen to focus your attention on." She stepped a bit closer to him and continued, growing more and more incensed, "But you'd do well to give a bit of thought to the fifty-four people on our side who lost their lives that night. They didn't get the second chance you got, and if they had I'm sure they wouldn't squander it away feeling sorry for themselves and holding onto ridiculous grudges. Merlin's beard, have a little perspective, why don't you! Be done with this nonsense!"
The two stood glaring at each other for a moment, before he picked up another cigarette and lit it.
"Callie Warbeck is going to be at this castle on September first," the woman said in a resolute tone, "and I'm hoping that you will be, too. My choice is not you or her, it is both of you. But if you can't bring yourself to live alongside the girl, then that's your decision, not mine."
He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he took a puff.
She turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. "And put that God-forsaken thing out," she ordered. "It's stinking up the whole damn dungeon." With that, she pulled the door shut and left him to himself.
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